


Frontline Lovers

by loverboyX



Category: History - Fandom, Original Work, World War II - Fandom
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate History, Alternate Universe - World War II, Coitus Interruptus, Creampie, Deepthroating, Doggy Style, Epic Battles, F/M, Face-Fucking, Facials, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, French Kissing, Groping, Gun Violence, Hospitalization, Invasion of Normandy, Large Cock, Lemon, Making Out, Military Training, Military Uniforms, Multiple Orgasms, Nazis, Near Death Experiences, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Showers, Smut, Uncircumcised Penis, Vaginal Sex, War, Women in the Military, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:20:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23199217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loverboyX/pseuds/loverboyX
Summary: In an alternate history where men and women fought alongside each other on the Western Front of World War II, love and sex are inevitable to bloom on the battlefield.PFC Rylan Driscoll, a bright-faced rookie, and his tough-as-nails Drill Sergeant, "Violent Violet" Myers, multi-task between a healthy sexual relationship and their duties in the legendary Battle of Normandy.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	1. D-Day

_"Dear Diary,_

_Hello! My name is Rylan Driscoll. I'm a Private First Class for the 16th Infantry Regiment, fresh out of boot camp. It's June 6, 1944, but everyone's been calling it "D-Day". My battalion is apart of the second assault wave to storm this beach in France codenamed "Omaha". Right now, I'm in a Higgins Boat traveling across the English Channel. This is so exciting! Before I joined the Army, the farthest I ever went past my home was a couple counties over. Now, here I am, about to land in France and kick some Nazi butt!"_

Rylan finished his journal entry, his penmanship neat even with the rocking of the Higgins Boat he stood in, his handwriting flowery even with the miserable situation he found himself in. He snapped the diary shut and safely tucked it into the lapels of his jacket. Rylan was a 19 year old pretty boy that stood at 5-foot-7, with pale skin, curly black hair, and beautiful green eyes. Stuck out like a sore thumb on the ugly battlefield. His dogtags marked him with a blood-type of B, and a religious preference of Protestantism. Riding the tides of the English Channel underneath a muggy sky, the Higgins Boat fleet approached the wartorn shores of Omaha Beach at nine knots.

 _"Thirty seconds!"_ alerted the boat's motorman.

A standoff between the USAF and the Luftwaffe stormed in the murky clouds above; dogfights among fighter planes and Flak cannons circled overhead like buzzards. With a service rifle slung over his back, Rylan and 35 other soldiers stood at attention in the metal confines of the LCVP. Some were men, some were women. One of these women wore dogtags that read as follows:

_"MYERS  
VIOLET  
BLOOD-TYPE O  
ATHEIST"_

"Violent Violet", as her squadmates called her, was a textbook tomboy. Sleeves of her coat rolled up to reveal her tanned muscles, topped off by choppy brown hair, dark serious eyes, and a stern expression. She was rather short, but her presence and demeanor exhumed towering might. Before today, Rylan knew her as Drill Sergeant Myers. She had spent the previous two months training him at boot camp, having finally graduated him just last week. She trained his aim, coached his strength, and pushed him to his limits and beyond. Like honing a piece of metal into a sharpened blade, she had honed Rylan into a deadly soldier. Myers was Driscoll's favorite commanding officer, and Driscoll was Myers's favorite 'maggot'. Now here they were, fighting side-by-side, the weight of the world shared between their shoulders. 

_"You ready, Private?"_

_"With you at my side, Sergeant? I'm ready for anything."_

Myers bit her lip to restrain a smile, wanting to come off as serious and emotionless in the presence of her men. Once the thirty seconds were up, the landing craft finally reached the beach, parking on its shore. Then the boat gaped open like a drawbridge, letting the Army platoon loose on Omaha. They spilled out of the LCVP right as machine gunfire rained down onto them. It was coming from two pillboxes perched at the top of a couple bluffs overlooking the beach. Terrified and desperate soldiers swarmed the colorless, desaturated no man's land. Several Americans were gorily cut down by the suppressive fire of Hitler's Buzzsaw, while the others like Rylan and Violet sought cover behind jack-shaped anti-tank obstacles called hedgehogs. Bullets loudly thwacked against their metal arms.

 _"We're supposed to make it up the beach?!"_ Rylan asked over the raging gunfire, heart pounding in his chest. _"That's suicide!"_

 _"Staying here would be even worse!"_ Violet replied. _"Mortar fire is gonna hit this shore any minute now! We have to move up!"_ And with that, she darted out of cover and boldly raced across the sands with gunfire grazing her.

Rylan cursed under his breath before reluctantly chasing after her. Just as Violet promised, enemy mortar shells began to rain down from the skies like a meteor shower. Explosions blasted all around Driscoll and Myers as they sprinted up the beach, washing clouds of smoke and dust across the shore and riddling the ground with impact craters. It was like racing through a minefield and a sandstorm all at once. They emerged from the dusty fog and reached the seawall, diving behind it. It was an insurmountable mound of sand that stretched across the entire beach, wreathed in barbed wire. Now that Violet could finally breathe, she pulled a field radio out of her haversack and gave her lieutenant a sitrep by shouting into the phone. Meanwhile, there were several other soldiers already taking cover behind the embankment as well, and one of them, cowering by Rylan's shoulder, was piecing together a Bangalore torpedo to breach the seawall with. The lowly corporal peeked out of cover for just one second and was immediately met with a bullet through the helmet. Rylan whimpered in fear as a fresh corpse nearly landed in his lap.

 _"Driscoll!"_ Violet interrupted her call. _"Pick up that banger and breach this seawall!"_

Eyes watering, Rylan carefully but quickly pried the torpedo from the soldier's cold, dead hands. With furiously shaky wrists, he tried assembling the Bangalore by snapping the sleeves together, but fumbled with the parts and dropped the back-end. He reached for it but Violet grabbed it first and helpfully plugged it into Rylan's half.

 _"You can do this!"_ she sincerely encouraged before returning to her radio call.

 _"Okay...okay..."_ Rylan muttered to himself.

 _No mission too difficult...No sacrifice too great...Duty first._ The creed of the 1st Infantry Division. Rylan had some big shoes to fill... He looked up at the seawall's horizon and yanked out the back-end of the torpedo. It began hissing and smoking, and it became clear Rylan had just struck a match. A match rigged with nine pounds of TNT. He chucked the Bangalore up and it got entangled with the barbed wire.

 _"FIRE IN THE HOLE!"_ Rylan shouted as he skittered away from the sparkling charge.

It exploded in a storm of sand that rained down onto him, each grain like a raindrop. A hole was blasted into the seawall, and his fellow soldiers immediately filled up that hole like a leak in a dam. Many were gunned down straight away. 

Violet pulled Rylan to his feet with surprising strength. _"Come on, soldier, we're almost there!"_ she shouted before charging towards the bunker under the threat of MG42 fire.

Violet's boundless courage was enough to inspire the young private to follow her almost fearlessly. After running across the shingle with sand spitting up all around them, they hiked up a dirt tail that traced up the slanted bluff, climbing the rocky cliff face. They had reached the top, where laid the back entrance to one of the bunkers. Like a disturbed anthill, grey-clad Axis soldiers spilled out to defend the small stronghold with their lives. Violet the Veteran opened fire on them with the matter-of-factly efficiency of a blue-collar worker. But for Rylan the Rookie, the earth stood still once he realized he was staring down the barrels of several loaded MP40s. His focus zoned into the distinct black helmets they wore. The Stahlhelm reminded Rylan of a metal target at the firing range. Instinctively and with lightning fast reflexes, he aimed down his sights and fired, skewering the Kraut through his brain. Before Driscoll could even process what he had just done, more of them filed out. In a fight-or-flight response, he shot them too, both instant kills as he had aimed for the vitals with his natural marksmanship. Only when the bluff finally stilled did Rylan realize he had just killed three men. His first blood. He stared down at the fresh corpses, getting vertigo at the sight. Men. Human beings. Living things, dead by his hand.

 _"Private!"_ Violet barked, snapping him out of it.

She recognized his inner turmoil as he blanked out on the bodies with a Thousand Yard Stare. She suffered it once too, when she was his age. It was a pain every seasoned soldier knew.

 _"...Move up,"_ she commanded simply with a 'don't think about it' tone and a look of sympathy in her eye.

 _"...Right,"_ Rylan nodded. He pushed his humanity back into the recesses of his mind so he could be a soldier once more.

They advanced into the bunker side by side, where the sounds of the battlefield seemed to grow distant. The ceiling flaked with every rumble and the concrete halls were packed with storage shelves. Flickering lightbulbs swung above as Rylan and Violet cautiously crept through the claustrophobic, close-quarters environment of the bunker. After creeping down another tight corridor, the two had finally made it to the machine gun nest. The two German gunners stationed in the pillbox stopped firing once they heard the flankers behind them. They abandoned their Buzzsaws, twisted around, and went for the Lugers in their holsters. 

Rylan lit one up with the final few shots of his M1 Garand, the emptied rifle spitting out a clip with that satisfying _"PING!"_ noise. Violet gunned down the other with her Thompson, both without a moment's hesitation. With the machine gunners finally slain, the beach went silent... Then came the cheering roars of the hundreds of American soldiers down on the shore as they raised their rifles to the skies in victory. Against all odds, Omaha was captured. Looking over the celebrations on the shores, Rylan and Violet smiled at each other, chuckling slightly. But it was less a hearty triumph and moreso a thankful and nervous relief that they actually survived the hellscape that was Omaha Beach on June 6th, 1944. They were confused, almost, that they were still alive. At least they got the worst over first... right? 

_"Let me tell you, Driscoll... If you survived that, you can survive anything."_

_"Yes, ma'am!"_ Rylan said with a smirk, reassured. Reloading his Garand, he dug around in his harness for a fresh clip to pop into the rifle's well, when all of a sudden the bolt cycled forward at breakneck speeds and crushed his thumb.

 _"AHHH!!"_ he shrieked in pain, tearing his caught finger out the iron hatch. He whipped his injured thumb through the air and sucked on it with watery eyes. The bolt had snagged it mercilessly, bloodily splitting the digit open.

Violet couldn't help but roll her eyes and chuckle. _"Garand Thumb. Rookie mistake."_

 _"Why didn't you tell me?!"_ he blubbered through the tears swelling in his eyes.

 _"Sometimes you gotta learn the hard way. Here, quit being a baby, I'll patch it up for you."_ She reached into the first aid kit in her satchel and pulled out a roll of bandages. Biting a strip off, she grabbed Rylan by his left wrist and bandaged up his hand. _"There, is that better?"_

 _"Mm-hm,"_ Rylan sniveled and nodded like a child getting his booboo kissed.

_"Well, at least it wasn't your shooting hand. And hey, maybe they'll give you a Purple Heart!"_

_"Not funny..."_

_"Now c'mon, let's go help the cargo ships unload,"_ Violet ordered as she made her way back out the bunker. 

She stopped in the doorway of the pillbox once she realized Rylan wasn't following her. She turned around to see what the problem was. He was standing dead still in the dark, quiet corners of the bunker, back turned to her as he stared at the motionless bodies before him. Rylan's skintone was sickly, his eyes were glazed over, and his expression was featureless. Just like the corpses themselves, in fact. No longer under the heat of battle, Rylan had nothing to distract him from the reality of his recent, irrevocable actions. 

_"...I killed a man today,"_ he bitterly mumbled. _"No, I killed **men** today. Four of them. Just one life is priceless... And I took away **four.** "_

Violet sighed. She knew she was going to have to have this talk with him eventually. _"Driscoll... It's you or them. These bastards will kill you without hesitation, so **you** kill **them** without hesitation first. This is war."_ She approached him, grabbed the shaken boy by the shoulders, and gave him an intense, personal look in the eye. _" **This is what I trained you for.** Don't disappoint me."_

Rylan paused, then huffed a reluctant sigh before finally coming to peace with his actions. _"You're right, Sergeant... I enlisted to kill Krauts, and that's exactly what I'm gonna do!"_

_"That's the spirit! Now let's go pitch a camp and get some rest. We sure as hell deserve it."_


	2. Basecamp Omaha

_"Dear Diary,_

_Well. We captured Omaha. It was one hard-fought battle, but we did it!... I drew my first blood today. I've thought long and hard about it and... I think I can safely say I've come to terms with it. It had to be done. My mission is to liberate France. And any Kraut who tries to stop me is gonna get a bullet to the head. They chose their path. And I've chosen mine."_

On the morning of June 6th, the beaches of Normandy were some of the most hellish battlefields the world had ever seen. By evening, they were turned into bustling basecamps for the US Army. Now that the German defenses were defeated and the Atlantic Wall was breached, the fleet of cargo ships could land and unload their thousands of tons of supplies. Hundreds of trucks, jeeps, and tanks drove deep into Normandy in single file lines, while field hospitals and green military tents were erected for soldiers to finally rest in. One of these was a two-person canvas tent that housed Violet and Rylan, unwinding after a hard day's work. They both looked like messes. Streaks of dirt and fresh scars ran across their bodies and faces, and their skin was moist with sweat. They were dirtied, stained, and bloodied from fighting nonstop, but still two undeniably handsome adults. They eagerly freed themselves from their twenty pounds of heavy gear. 

After propping up their weapons, they pulled off their harnesses, went barefoot by discarding their combat boots, and stripped down to their white undershirts by unbuttoning and taking off their jackets. Scantily-clad, Rylan's build became more evident, no longer hidden beneath bulky gear. Violet got flustered as she was reminded how... thick he was. He had a rather womanly frame, pear-shaped, even. Child-bearing hips with thighs and a bubble butt big enough for the fibers in his cargos to strain in their attempt at holding them. This wasn't to say he didn't have unmistakably masculine characteristics too. His arms and abdomen had very well-defined muscles, and a flaccid bulge stretched halfway down his left thigh. A cumbersome load in the lap of his pants, to say the least. As a matter of fact, with Rylan a lithe femboy and Violet a muscular tomboy, the two had very similar androgynous bodies. The only difference, aside from skintone and sex-based anatomy, was Myers being four inches shorter and nine pounds lighter. 

Violet looked away to hide her blush, taking a seat down on the floor next to a couple pillows so she could massage the balls of her sore feet, sighing in relief. _"Fuck, that feels good..."_

Rylan chuckled at the rare sight of the tough-as-nails Sergeant Myers letting loose. _"You know, I can loosen you up even more, if you'd like..."_

Violet looked up at Rylan with a smirk. _"Is that a promise?"_

Rylan got down on his knees behind Violet so he could gently seize her by her shoulders. _"Let me show you."_

He began giving his sergeant a much-deserved massage through her tanktop. His thumbs tenderly buried into her upper back, driving deep into her taut muscles and loosening them in a circular, rolling motion. 

_"How's that feel?"_ he asked over her shoulders, making sure he was doing it right.

Violet sighed contentedly, leaning into Rylan's touch as she felt the fibers in her shoulders slacken. _"God, Driscoll..."_ the woman whispered, closing her eyes. A back rub after capturing Omaha was Heaven on Earth. 

Rylan couldn't stop smirking, enjoying the massage just as much as Violet. _"I can make it even better~,"_ he whispered into her ear, almost flirtingly.

Driscoll put his hands on his sergeant's hips and laid her out flat against the floor on her belly. He grabbed her shirt by its waistline and pulled it up to her shoulders, revealing her bare back. It was like a canvas of skin for his hands to explore. He went to work with incredible eagerness, his fingertips and the balls of his palms pleasuring Violet in a series of deep and sensual caresses. He molded her skin and tuned every muscle, every sinew, every fiber her back wore to perfection, loosening every last knot she had accumulated over her tour. 

She clenched her eyes and sighed with such a sharp, feminine twist in her voice it almost sounded like a moan. _"Rylan~..."_

That took Rylan aback, making him blush. That was the first time she had ever called him by his first name. It was always 'Driscoll' or 'Private' or 'Maggot'. Never 'Rylan'. Somehow Violet felt simultaneously all the more tense and completely relieved. She felt her muscles relax but the thick tension in the air was almost palpable. Violet groaned quietly, her eyes starting to roll a bit.

 _"God, you're so good,"_ she blurted, which sounded rather suggestive. _"I feel like I should be paying you for this."_

Driscoll let out another chuckle, almost a giggle. _"It's my pleasure, Sergeant. You're the hardest working person I've ever met. If there's anyone who deserves a back rub, it's you."_

Lost in the massage and the sensation of skin meeting skin, the private's hands explored further and further downward upon Violet's lower back, until his fingers were teasingly tracing along the waistband of her cargos. Feeling cocky, he suddenly reached up underneath Violet as she laid flat on her stomach so he could unbutton her pants. His fingers hooked on her waistband and pulled her loosened trousers down past her buttcheeks, exposing them to the humidity of the tent's interior. Violet's eyes went wide.

 _"I can make it **even** better~,"_ Driscoll repeated cheekily. This time, his inflection was unmistakably dripping with flirtatious lust.

Rylan massaged her bare rear just as he massaged her back, rolling and rubbing and caressing the fat, squeezing entire handfuls. He was clearly having fun. The tanned skin on Violet's face turned to a crimson red from blush.

 _"R-Rylan!~"_ she exclaimed in a mix of a gasp and a shudder. She wanted to call him off and reprimand him for his outrageous impudence, but she just...couldn't. 

Hearing Violet almost _moan_ his name like that filled Rylan's face with a red flush and got him hot and bothered. The sexual tension was like an agonizing headache. Driscoll couldn't stand it any longer. He had already gotten a taste of making Violet moan his name. Now he wanted more. With two squishy handfuls of buttcheeks already kneaded between his fingers, Rylan spread Violet wide and revealed her womanhood as it glistened with arousal. It was such a beautiful sight that poured fuel on the fire of arousal burning in Rylan's head. He mimicked the state of Violet's trousers, unbuttoning and unzipping his cargos so he could pull them down to the center of his thighs. Out sprang a truly mighty, uncircumcised erection, one as hard as diamond. Violet could feel thick beads of precum dripping onto the lips of her sex, almost as if Rylan's cock was drooling over her. 

_"F-...Fuck... Rylan..."_ Violet shuddered, unsure of how to respond. 

He grabbed his throbbing shaft by its base and guided it into her buttcrack, teasing which hole he'd penetrate. Deciding on her vagina, his tip pierced her vulva and slid into her pussy, which made her squeak. Inch by inch, he delved deeper into her. Three inches, five inches, seven inches... Only at a total of eight inches did Rylan's urethra finally meet Violet's cervix. She hissed at the tender sensation, followed by a soft moan. His waist began working in a smooth, suave motion, waning in and out of her womanhood at a gentle pace. Eyes watery, she whined and trembled as he carefully forced his way inside. Her core felt eaten away by a dull pleasure. Rylan was quieter than Violet, but still couldn't help but shudder and pant with husk in his voice. The sergeant was far from a virgin, but the way Rylan fit inside her made her feel like one again. His thrusts were thoughtful and tender, never tearing her sensitive walls or bruising her cervix even with his oversized manhood. As he picked up the pace, Violet could still feel precum bleeding inside of her, further loosening the fit. 

_"Rylan~...Rylan~!"_ she pleaded wantingly. _"Yes... Right there! Right there!"_

That was all it took to drive Rylan over the edge. He soon felt one hell of a pressure building inside him, tingling him to the very bone. His breaths got raspier and angrier the more the pressure grew. After about a dozen more lightning fast thrusts, it finally burst. He let loose one unrestrained groan while powerfully burying himself balls-deep. Hot milky loads fed into her insides by the tablespoon. Violet soon felt so full with semen that she felt like her eggless womb would rupture any second now. Rylan's brain was cooked by a fiery fever of bliss. 

_"Fuck...Fuck~..."_ Rylan gasped, every breath he drew hot and heavy.

He paused, catching his breath... Then he continued thrusting. It seemed he lacked a refractory period. Where most men would've shriveled up and been spent for hours, Rylan fucked like he was doing a marathon. As a matter of fact, the squishy semen inside Violet made for excellent lubricant that helped the pounding feel even slicker. It took a couple minutes to get used to, but once the woman's cunt shaped itself around her man's cock, it was an experience of mind-numbing bliss. The adaption allowed Rylan's hips to intensify tenfold. The feeling of such a soft and tight canal downright strangling every inch of his cock was one-of-a-kind. The power behind his thrusts became unbridled. Violet's toes scrunched and her fists clenched at the sensation of this young man lovingly ravaging her insides, gritting her teeth in her best attempt at restraining her ecstatic cries. There were hundreds of busy men and women swarming around their tent, after all. She didn't want to attract any unwanted attention. 

Violet squirmed beneath her subordinate's surprisingly masculine might. Rylan's dogtags loudly jangled around in his fierce and impassioned activity. His balls, still swollen with more cum, swung back and forth wildly, garnering resounding thunderclaps against his officer's buttcheeks and spanking her. He punctuated his second climax by bucking into the woman with unique force, roaring in manly ecstasy. Unlike his CO, he was completely careless of anyone hearing them. He pumped her ass full of all the ejaculant his balls still had to offer, which was about an ounce. Hell, the load was even bigger than his first one! His cum was thick like cream while warm like coffee as it overflowed and oozed from between Violet's legs. Rylan's cock, swathed in its own cum, finally loosened into flaccidity as it drew away from her. Violet could barely stay conscious, crippled with fiery pleasure and heaving wildly. She writhed on the floor in a puddle of her own sweat. 

_"You know, Driscoll..."_ she huffed. Her raging hormones subsided and Violet reverted back to her typical grumpy self. _"You're one lucky son of a bitch I'm on the pill!"_ It was true. All female soldiers were issued birth control pills so PMS wouldn't get in the way of their duty, but it had other uses for these reckless young adults.

Rylan chuckled as he laid down next to her, tucking one arm behind his head as he stared up at the tent's ceiling. _"Yeah...I feel like the luckiest guy in the world right now."_

His remark took her Violet off guard and melted her heart a bit. It was oddly romantic, in Rylan's own way. She huffed again before closing her eyes and gently nestling her head onto his hard, moist chest like a pillow. She could hear his heart pounding against his dogtags at about 150 BPM. However, with time, his heart-rate slowed down to a soft and steady pace of only 60. The surging of his chest from his breaths had a similar deescalation. Feeling and hearing his vitals... comforted Violet. It was intimate, and reminded her of a lullaby. And like a lullaby, it eased her to sleep. He wrapped his other arm around her shoulder, and the two soldiers rested easy cuddling on the tent floor. It was the best either them slept in a long, long time. Eight hours later, Violet's eyelids rose once her mind meandered back to consciousness. Her eyes drifted up at Rylan, still peacefully slumbering, which made her smile. Slipping out of his loving embrace, she stretched her body and popped her joints while groaning and moaning in tired satisfaction. She grabbed her boots by their cuffs and slid her feet into them. Meanwhile, Rylan began stirring awake, rubbing his eyes and sitting up sluggishly.

 _"Morning, beautiful,"_ he mumbled, still half-asleep.

 _"That's 'ma'am' to you,"_ Violet sharply corrected with a smirk while tying her laces.

 _"Yeah, yeah, yeah,"_ he muttered as he followed a similar morning routine of stretching and putting on his boots.

 _"I'm serious, Driscoll!"_ she snapped while changing into her jacket. _"If someone hears you call me a term of endearment..."_

 _"I know, I know,"_ Rylan rolled his eyes as he struggled into his undershirt. 

The two redressed and geared back up, buckling their harnesses. _"Let's... Let's keep this a one-time thing, okay?"_ Violet requested, conflicted and flustered by memories of last night. _"If a CO finds out about this, we'll **both** get dishonorable discharges!"_

Rylan giggled as he reached into an ammo can and pulled out a .30-06 Springfield cartridge. _"Discharged for discharging inside my squad leader..."_ he said under his breath.

Violet rolled her eyes in disgust. _"You are such a child..."_

Rylan popped the copper bullet into an empty magazine he had stored in his pouch, followed by an additional nineteen, one by one. He repeated the process for two more BAR magazines, then two M1911 magazines. Sharing the fresh ammo supply, the two soldiers locked and loaded.

 _"We're moving out this morning. The next objective is a village called Formigny,"_ Violet tried debriefing sternly as she and Rylan approached the tent's exit. Her face took a shallower expression and her voice took a quieter tone. _"...Last night never happened, okay? We have to keep a clear mind."_

Rylan plopped a helmet down onto his head and looked at Violet with a reassuring smirk. _"Yes, ma'am."_

Though Violet still had uncertainty lurking within her, the two nonetheless marched out of the tent and back into the sunlight; back into the fray.


	3. Crossroads Skirmish

_"Dear Diary,_

_It's been almost two weeks since D-Day. The civilians we liberate are so lovely and grateful. After Formigny, we captured Aignerville, then Colombières, then Saint-Germain-du-Pert... I feel like I'm taking French class! Now we're headed to Les Oubeaux. God, we've been marching up and down Normandy all month... I don't mind though. The French countryside is so beautiful. It's a shame it's been so stained by the ugliness of war..."_

What Rylan wrote was true. The landscapes of Normandy seemed heavenly under the right lighting. When its trees weren't scorched by artillery fire, and when its crossroads weren't blemished by army blockades. Over ten thousand square miles of lush greenery kissed by the golden summer sunlight. Woodland, pastures, and farmland formed one big region of bocage for the US Army to battle through. 

_"Keep up, Driscoll!"_ the distant Violet called out to Rylan as he sat up against a fence, writing in his journal.

Rylan quickly slid his diary into his coat, hopped up, and chased after Violet. Ever since that night in the tent, tension followed them everywhere they went. They tried to ignore it with friendly banter and soldierly discipline, but they both knew deep down that it would never be the same between them again. 

_"Those artillery spotters should be at the crossroads,"_ Sergeant Myers explained once Rylan caught up with her, the two hiking down a dirt trail. _"Once we rendezvous with them, we'll be able to break through Les Oubeaux's defenses."_

Rylan's romantic mind was displaced from Violet's no-nonsense debriefings. _"Maybe once we get there, we can spend the night in a tavern. I make you some hot cocoa, we cuddle up by the fireplace, I peel that stuffy uniform off of you..."_

The next thing Rylan knew, his ears were ringing and the left side of his face was throbbing with pain. Violet had... punched him. The physical ache was eclipsed by shock, confusion, and emotional pain. He stared at her in hurt bewilderment, clutching his reddened cheek. Violet's blood curdled in rage at the thought of sleeping with a man. She wanted to be above those base womanly instincts, to dehumanize herself and be fully consumed by warfare. Rylan's temptations were just another obstacle to her.

 _"We are on a battlefield, Driscoll! You stupid son of a bitch, I told you to leave that lovey dovey shit in the tent! Goddammit, what is with you pigs..."_ Violet's stern scolding started to turn into an emotional rant, to the point of tears welling in her eyes. _"I-... Stop trying to seduce me..."_ she muttered weakly, almost pleadingly. 

Rylan didn't know what to say. Before he could gather enough composure to speak, three Germans spilled out of the trees with a terrifying lack of fanfare. _"Contact!"_ he shouted as the two snapped from complicated lovers to hardened warriors. 

Violet dropped the first one immediately with a few squeezes from her SMG. He tried charging the two Americans; bad mistake. One of the German unscrewed the lid off the end of a stick grenade and chucked it ten yards in Rylan's direction. It landed a couple feet from him, so he hit the deck and cradled his head right as the Stielhandgranate went up in flames and shook the earth. Six ounces of TNT ignited, blasting a small crater into the ground while sending a tempest of dust and debris up in the sky. After scrambling back to his feet, Rylan gunned the German responsible down with his M1911 as chunks of dirt rained down onto his helmet. Violet shot the third and final German in the stomach with her Thompson, toppling him to the ground into a puddle of his own blood. With his last bit of life, he unholstered his sidearm with his bloodied hands and aimed it up at Violet's head. The German mashed the trigger of his Luger right as Violet executed him. The pistol's 7.65mm bullet had whizzed right past her head and grazed her cheek, missing her vitals by mere centimeters. It tore a bloodied flesh wound that barely broke skin and streaked across her face. She grunted at the sharp but slight pain.

 _"Sergeant!"_ Rylan exclaimed in concern. _"Are you okay?!"_

 _"I'm fine,"_ she grumbled, teeth gritted with pain. The vegetation rustled once more. _"More incoming!"_

Seven more Germans emerged from the foliage, guns blazing. Rylan mounted the stock of his M1 Garand on his shoulder, winked down its iron sight, and returned fire. With the eyes of a hawk, he squeezed off two well-aimed rounds that earned him a couple clean headshots. Stahlhelms flew off scalps as faces were destroyed and bodies were felled. Meanwhile, Violet emptied her Thompson at the enemy engagement, gunning two down dead and injuring another. While Violet switched to her sidearm to compensate for her unloaded primary, Rylan covered her by popping off five more shots. Two of them grazed the ribs of a German soldier, the other three hammered into another's chest, dropping him. M1911 drawn from her holster, Violet finished off the one she wounded earlier and the one Rylan nicked. Only one German remained, having just finished reloading his MP40. It was a race between the sergeant and private to see who'd get him first. A single shot rang out, followed by a distinct _"PING!"_ and the clattering of brass to the dirt. Rylan was quicker on the draw, blowing the German's brains out with the eighth and final shot from his Garand. It was punctuated by the metallic twang of the emptied clip ejecting.

 _"Too slow,"_ Rylan teased Violet as his rifle still smoked.

She pouted before reaching for a fresh magazine. _"It's not a contest, Driscoll..."_

Both soldiers reloaded their weapons. Myers discarded the empty magazine from its well and replaced it with the new one. Rylan pulled a clip of eight cartridges from his pocket and mashed it into the bolt with his thumb, making it cycle forward with an iron crunch. No Garand Thumb this time. Rylan and Violet continued their hike through the crossroads of Normandy, now with their guns aimed and their minds alert. Violet spotted two soldiers in the distance, squatted down behind a fence as one of them barked orders into a field radio. They had green fatigues, not grey ones; friendly soldiers, for once. 

_"It's the artillery spotter! Let's move out!"_

Just then, a monstrous beast of metal revved up over the nearby horizon, earth trembling beneath its mighty treads. Fifty tons of lumbering steel. A fearsome war machine with a hull as grey as German fatigues. The Tiger I. It was accompanied by a third wave of Fritz, laying waste to the lands with their SMGs. The Tiger slowly reared its ugly head in the direction of Rylan and Violet. Then a shell leapt out its cannon. Violet tackled Rylan to safety right as the round landed and exploded the soil around them. Myers looked over at the spotters, hoping to see them calling in an artillery barrage. The smoke cleared and they were laying dead in an impact crater.

 _"Shit..."_ she cursed under her breath. _"Driscoll! Our spotter is KIA! I'm gonna go for the field radio and order an artillery strike! Cover me!"_

 _"Yes, ma'am!"_ Rylan assured, raising his Thompson.

Violet skittered out of cover and raced across the field, dodging fire from MP40s and shellings from 88mm tank guns. She got flashbacks to her traumatizing sprint up Omaha Beach, geysers of smoke and debris erupting all around her. She skidded on her knees into the makeshift foxhole, where laid two corpses as one of them clung to a field radio. Groaning in disgust at the dead body, Violet pried the radio from his dead hands and grabbed the black telephone strung to it.

 _"Echo Foxtrot, this is Sierra Delta!"_ she huffed into the transmitter. _"Adjust fire! I have one Tiger and five infantry, over!"_

 _"Sierra Delta, this is Echo Foxtrot,"_ crackled the voice of a female artillery crew from over the receiver. _"What are their coordinates? Over."_

Violet noticed a beige, folded up map in the foxhole. While she cradled the phone with her shoulder, she swiped up the coordinate pamphlet and scanned it feverishly. _"Grid...734536, Direction; 4800, over!"_

 _"Copied. Artillery strike incoming. Danger close,"_ she warned.

Violet hoped to God she gave her the right coordinates. Gunfire poured onto the lip of the crater as the sergeant cowered in it. The Germans were converging, and the ground rumbled ominously as the Tiger approached, like an encroaching tremor. Just as all hope seemed lost, the sky whistled. Four consecutive artillery rounds rained from the clouds, striking the earth like comets. The armored patrol was consumed by the bombardment, blasting the tank and its surrounding soldiers to pieces. Only the smoldering remains of the Panzer could be seen through the shroud of black smoke.

 _"Sierra Delta, this is Echo Foxtrot,"_ said the artillery crew, which was music to Violet's ears. _"Fire mission complete; one Tiger destroyed, estimate ten casualties, out."_

Violet stared the surrounding wreckage, frozen and dumbstruck. Though she seemed cold and detached on the outside, on the inside, her vitals were off the chart. Her mind was racing a million thoughts a minute, while her heart-rate kept a similar pace. Emotions sizzled in her brain; cooling down or heating up, she couldn't tell. All she knew for certain was that, in this emotionally vulnerable and tender state in the afterglow of an adrenalized scrape with death... She was oddly extremely horny.

 _"Driscoll..."_ she muttered quietly without facing him, as he had approached her from behind.

He stumbled in his march, unsure of what to expect from Violet in this strange state of hers. _"Y...Yes, ma'am?"_

_"Fuck me."_

Before either Rylan or Violet even knew what was happening, they were splayed out in the grass, coats unbuttoned and cargos around their ankles as they kissed and bit each other passionately. Rylan laid down on top of Violet, sensually frenching her as their naked crotches locked together. He mounted his arms at the sides of her head, grabbing handfuls of grass, and slid his hips forward, burying his cock deep in her pussy. She threw her head back and moaned, walls already tender and loosened with arousal as they stretched and strained to accommodate his girth. Rylan drew in and out at a steady but powerful pace. Violet's once whispery sounds of pleasure picked up in volume and pace, escalating to loud moans. 

Wanting him deeper, she embraced Rylan by throwing her arms and legs behind him. She hugged him and locked her ankles at his back, pulling him into a mating press. _"Harder~,"_ she begged. 

Rylan did as his sergeant asked. He thrusted harder, faster, deeper. At first his scrotum was gently kissing Violet's vulva with every thrust, but it was soon loudly clapping up and down on her buttcrack. They melted into one another in a steamy cocktail of sweat and passion. Both grew moist and red with exhaustion as they made love for three minutes, then five minutes, then seven. Guns and explosions crackled in the distance as they fucked in the middle of the battlefield, but they were deaf to it. Violet's voice rose in volume and pitch, hormones crescendoing and belly churning with discharge. Her toes curled as they sat atop Rylan's back and she came with him inside of her. In the aftermath of the orgasm, her hole was sore and raw beyond her wildest imagination. So when Rylan, unaffected, continued pounding away at her, a white hot sensitivity engulfed every atom in her body. 

_"Rylan!! Rylan!!~"_ she screeched in otherworldly bliss.

Violet came again and again, minute after minute, her pussy tightening and twisting ruthlessly against her will. It was the most wondrously vulnerable and primal moment of her life, getting her brains fucked out by Rylan into multiple orgasms. Then finally, unable to hold out anymore with her shrieking pleasantries into his ear, he climaxed too. He burrowed into her one final time and unleashed an immense ejaculation upon her womb. Fucked silly, Violet's eyes rolled into the back of her head when she felt him cramping and contracting inside of her. 

Hot boiling cum filled her uterus so profusely and with such strength that it overflowed out onto her labia. Both of them moaned in perfect harmony at the intimate sensation before going slump, bodies spent of all energy. He slowly withdrew. Rylan's urethra and Violet's clitoris were linked by a sturdy rope of cum that only snapped after he pulled far enough away. He was slick and glistening with sweat, panting as he writhed peacefully atop Violet. Myers used to be a stern drill sergeant that demanded respect with her every gesture. But something she couldn't explain happened in the heat of battle that reduced her to a dirty slut addicted to Rylan's cock.

 _"...Holy fucking shit..."_ she whimpered tenderly between labored breaths.


	4. Barnhouse Ambush

_"Dear Diary,_

_Gosh, what a long day! The farmland surrounding Saint-Jean-de-Daye is absolutely crawling with Krauts. June is almost over, and right now we're spending the night in an abandoned barn. There's a hole in the ceiling, with a parachute tangled up in it. A Screaming Eagle must've landed here on D-Day. Awesome! Anyways, I've lost count of how many Krauts I've killed by now. Must be over a hund-"_

Rylan's concentration was broken when, all of a sudden, he felt Violet playing with the zipper of his cargos. He looked away from his journal and down between his legs, where Violet was on her knees swooning over his bulge upon opening his pants. It had been twelve days since getting shot in the face, so the flesh wound sliced into her cheek had devolved into a faint scar. 

_"Whoa! You're in a good mood this evening, aren't you?"_

_"When a girl's gotta go, a girl's gotta go,"_ Violet justified herself as she pulled down his white briefs so his hard cock could flop out.

A few weeks ago, if someone told her she'd be on her knees worshiping one of her privates' privates like a whore, she'd swiftly have them beaten and discharged. Yet here Sergeant Myers was. She wrapped her lips around his fat pink tip and scrunched foreskin sleeve, praising them with soft kisses. She bobbed down and took his rotund left nut into her mouth, rolling her tongue around it and relishing the taste of his teste. Her mouth opened wide so she could swallow the other ball too, letting her messily suck on his entire scrotum until it glistened with spit. Then her mouth trailed back up to the side of his shaft to nibble on it. His veins pounded against her tongue so hard it felt like she was licking a beating heart. 

Getting impatient with all the teasing, Rylan grabbed Violet by the face and easily pressed her mouth down on his cock, her jaw nearly having to unhinge just to hold it. Inch by inch, his erection descended into her head. Her mouth was already full, and he wasn't even halfway swallowed yet. Nonetheless, he continued pressing deeper, determined to fit in all eight inches. Getting pushed to her limits, Violet's eyes watered as she felt his tip pressing against the back of her throat. His waist withdrew, only to slide right back in before his tip could leave her lips. Rylan could feel muscles pleasurably contracting around his foreskin sheathe as her windpipe made a swallowing gesture. She moaned against his cock as it stretched her trachea wide, stimulating it with vibrations. His hips started in soft and gentle thrusts, delving in and out of her mouth. 

Her throat felt paradisal, tightly squeezing his many inches. _"Ohhh, fuck yeah~..."_ he trembled.

He got excited and began lunging inwards more intensely. Each and every thrust was a balls-deep one too, so it was a thorough deepthroat. With one hand on her head for leverage, he leaned back and moaned aggressively. It wasn't long before his balls were slapping against her chin and his tip was hammering the deepest depths of her throat. Rylan was passionately facefucking Violet. Her brain rattled in her skull, her cheeks turned a rosy red, and her tears fell from her eyes. He bucked against her head one final time so he could finish in her mouth. Her cheeks swelled as far as they could go, filling with an overflow of cum pumped from his erection. It was clear Violet's face was about to burst. 

Rylan slung his wet dick out of her mouth and finished the ejaculation by painting her exterior with cum. Thick white ropes leaped out of his urethra to splatter across her cheeks, forehead, and breasts. He jerked his cock fiercely, squeezing out as much semen as possible while aiming his shaft to get every crease of her exposed skin stained. He groaned at the top of his lungs, overwhelmed by the twenty seconds of ecstasy. His orgasm finally slowed to a weak trickle of semen from his tip. Gradually, Violet's clenched eyes opened and her tensed-up body unfurled as the ejaculation winded to an end. She swallowed the mouthful of seed, his cream as sweet as cake frosting, and looked down at her cleavage as cum pooled up between her coated breasts.

 _"Fuck..."_ she whispered with a smile and a chuckle, taken aback by Rylan's monstrous ejaculation.

Rylan chuckled along with her, bashfully rubbing the back of his head. _"Heh, I might've gotten carried away a little bit... Sorry about that!"_

Violet wiped off her facial and the cum caking her breasts, licking it off her fingers and savoring every spoonful. 

_"Want me to repay the favor?"_ Rylan offered as he grabbed his cock, attempting to maintain an erection.

_"No, my birth control rations ran dry yesterday. And Driscoll, so help me God, I am NOT delivering your baby on the battlefield! Just eat me out later tonight and we'll call it even."_

As Rylan's head swam in the afterglow, he looked aside and gazed aimlessly out the window. That's when he noticed the bushes across the street start to rustle. He instantly sobered up in alert, his soldier instincts kicking in. Then, grey figures began spilling out the brambles. Five of them, shouting things like _"Feinde in der Scheune!"_ and _"Offenes Feuer!"_

 _"Oh crap,"_ Rylan muttered under his breath. _"FRITZ, THREE O'CLOCK!"_

Both Americans rushed to swipe up their Thompsons and confront their enemy in their embarrassing half-dressed state. The Germans all took battle formation outside the barn and raised their MP40s. Normally, they would've opened fire without hesitation. But the last thing they were expecting was to see Rylan's hung cock dangling between his legs, or Violet's tits hanging out of her shirt, so they were caught completely off guard. This gave the Americans the chance to get in the first shots, gunning down two Krauts right off the bat. Snapping out of it, the Axis returned fire, spraying their submachine guns against the broad side of the barn and riddling the rickety wooden walls with dozens of holes. Sunlight spilled in through the holes, making the barn's interior much brighter, while sawdust and smoke exhaled from the mangled architecture. Mounting the barrel of his Chicago Typewriter on the window sill, Rylan sprayed into one of the Germans, riddling him with bullets like a 1920s gangster. Meanwhile, Violet plunged her hand into her pouch and pulled out an M67 grenade. She chomped down on the pin and yanked it out with her teeth.

 _"FRAG OUT!"_ she warned.

Like pitching a baseball, Violet threw the hand grenade at the swarm of Germans. It rolled around their boots for a couple seconds before exploding into a fireball of shrapnel. The frag grenade blasted all three Germans sky high, turning them into grey-clad ragdolls. The shockwave blew Violet's hair like a gust of wind as she spat out the pin. After the debris finished crumbling, the battlefield went eerily silent once more. That must've been the last of them. Violet and Rylan looked at each other. Partially clothed in army fatigues, with their most private and sexual body-parts hanging out for the world to see. Half dutiful soldiers, half hopelessly horny lovers. After a pause, they both busted out into laughter. They had gotten busy in the middle of a battlefield and almost got their pretty little asses pumped with lead for it. From an outward perspective, Violet would've been furious for letting her guard down in such a dangerous and irresponsible way. But in the heat of the moment, she couldn't help but laugh uncontrollably at the ridiculousness of it all.

 _"I need a fucking smoke,"_ Violet sighed as she pulled a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of her back pocket.

Sighing in relief, Rylan leaned back against the window sill as he got comfortable and casual to cool down from the sex and fighting back-to-back. _"...You know... I've always been meaning to ask... What did you do in the Army before you became a drill sergeant, ma'am?"_

Violet lit a cigarette, its butt crackling with fiery embers before she began sucking smoke out of it. She didn't offer it to Rylan since she knew he didn't smoke. _"I enlisted in '42. My first real engagement was at Kasserine Pass, in Tunisia. Where did you think I got my tan from? It was a disaster; my whole squad got wiped. Damn Rommel... I've hated Krauts ever since."_

She took another drag from her cigarette, letting the hit of nicotine relax her mind. _"The next year, I was deployed again, this time in Sicily under Patton. And now here I am, sucking my private's dick in Normandy. Life thinks it's a comedian."_

Rylan giggled, blushing slightly. _"Yeah... So why did you enlist anyways, Sergeant?"_

_"Anywhere was better than home."_

Rylan raised an eyebrow. _"What was wrong with home?"_

Violet chuckled bitterly. _"White trash shithole. My parents were deadbeats. Rarely bothered paying the power bill. They'd rather spend their money on beer and cigarettes. When I wasn't choking on all the tobacco smoke, I was getting beer bottles thrown at me, or cigarette butts put out on my arm."_

Rylan felt so bad. He wanted to comfort her, to tell her it was all okay. But he knew there was nothing he could say. He could've said _'I'm so sorry'_ , or something sappy like that, but it wouldn't have helped. All the young man could do was sit back, be quiet, and listen. Once the cigarette was more -or-less spent, Sgt. Myers flicked it to the ground and stamped it out with the toes of her boot. 

_"Anywhere was better than home,"_ Violet repeated. She looked out the window with an empty stare, at the corpse-littered battlefield that surrounded her. _"Anywhere."_


	5. Battle of the Hedgerows

_"Dear Diary,_

_I **think** it's July 7th? We're lost... We were hiking from Le Mesnil-Véneron to Cavigny but there were these hedgerows in the way. I thought it was just gonna be a normal 45 minute walk but... It's like being trapped in a garden maze. We've been all turned around for hours and we don't know where we are!"_

Rylan closed his journal and stuck it into his coat, following Violet as they aimlessly and hopelessly wandered through the winding bushy corridors of Normandy's hedgerows. A labyrinth of green, stretching out in all directions for miles. Red soil paved the dirt roads they marched through.

 _"Don't worry, Driscoll,"_ Violet assured, though she was really talking to herself. _"I'm sure we'll rendezvous with the rest of the squad soon... They can't be far."_

Just then, Rylan and Violet heard marching growing ever closer. But they didn't belong to combat boots; they belonged to the distinct stomping of jackboots. And their ever-encroaching shadows didn't have M1 helmets; they were crowned by the distinct shape of Stahlhelms. The two Americans glanced nervously at each other once they realized a firefight was likely imminent. They had no backup and no cover, and were surely outnumbered. Their odds were hopeless, yet they raised their weapons readily anyways. Then, it got even worse. Inevitably, a team of four Germans did indeed reveal themselves, submachine guns at the ready. Rylan and Violet were staring down their own personal firing squad with defiant scowls. But these weren't just any Axis soldiers. 

They were different. Every other Kraut Rylan and Violet had seen up until this point was clad in generic grey army fatigues. But these were sharply dressed in striking black military uniforms that were harsh on the eyes, with blood red armbands wrapped around their right biceps. Each of them bore the Nazi swastika. These were no normal German foot soldiers. They were the elites of the Third Reich. The paramilitary of the Nazi Party itself. The Waffen-SS. They looked like Grim Reapers, come to abduct Rylan's and Violet's souls. No orders or shout-outs needed to be barked by either side. They slaughtered each other professionally, without a word. The shadowy commandos opened fire with machine-like precision. Bullets whizzed past Violet, grazing her and tearing hot, smoking holes in her clothes. 

She returned fire, but the enemy soldiers skillfully dodged just as she did. The few shots that did land hardly had an effect on them despite tearing through their bone, almost as if they were inhumanly immune to pain. Rylan's heart dipped countless times as gunfire narrowly missed him as well. He aimed down the sights of his Thompson and sprayed at all black standing before him. Half a magazine's worth of bullets soared out of the barrel, slicing through arms, shoulders, necks, and foreheads. At least they weren't bulletproof. He had dropped four Germans within mere seconds, but only two were actually dead. Moving up, Violet and Rylan marched through the pile of bloodied bodies and finished from the two wounded survivors with swift executions, popping off a couple close-quarters headshots.

 _"These Krauts..."_ Rylan gasped, heart racing and wrists shaking. He had never been this shaken in combat since his very first engagement. _"They're so fast and strong!"_

_"This ain't normal Fritz... They're something else. Something worse..."_

Just then, while Violet's back was turned, a black figure leapt out of a hedgerow in a surprise attack, whipping Rylan across the jaw with the butt of his Kar98k and sending him toppling to the ground. It all happened so fast. Dazed by the strike, Driscoll looked up and saw the shine of a bayonet blade striking down onto him like a lightning bolt, aimed right between his eyes. Rylan sacrificed his hand for his life, catching the blade. It skewered straight through his left palm, slicing through bone, flesh, and nerves. The American screamed in pain, agonized by an excruciating sensation spreading from his fingertips all the way down to his toes. The Nazi tore the the bayonet out of Rylan so he could stick him again. His eyes went wide. He could feel his guts being punctured. He could feel the blade pinning him to the ground through his stomach. The pain skyrocketed so much his brain couldn't register it. Rylan froze. His mouth went to scream, but his throat froze, so only a tiny, rattling gasp came out. 

_" **RYLAN!!** "_ screamed Violet, catching the German's attention. 

One bullet cut through the Kraut's ear, another landed in his cheek, and a third burrowed into his forehead, killing him instantly. He toppled lifelessly to the ground, and Violet continued mashing the trigger, defiling his corpse with four more bullets until her M1911 ran dry. She tossed the emptied pistol to the ground and rushed over to Rylan, cupping his stab wound and putting pressure on it to stop the profuse bleeding. 

_"Violet..."_ Rylan said hoarsely, completely out of it with blood leaking out his mouth. _"I can't feel my legs... I don't think I can walk..."_

 _"Shhh, don't talk, save your strength!"_ Violet begged, trying to restrain herself from being hysterical. _"There's a field hospital not too far from here, okay?! We're gonna be there in no time!"_

As if the situation couldn't get any dire, it was 1900 hours, which meant the sun was going down. The swollen orange saucer in the clouds descended beneath the skyline, snuffing light from the earth and leaving Violet and Rylan stranded in the dark. Violet rolled Rylan over onto his skewered belly and grabbed his arm, dragging him up onto her shoulder and into a fireman carry. She struggled under his weight, but he was thankfully pretty light, all things considered. Adrenaline fueled her as well, and like a well-oiled machine she began jogging as fast she could. When she couldn't jog anymore, she hobbled and limped and sauntered, getting weaker and weaker with every breath. Violet emerged from the hedgerows with Rylan slung over her shoulders. Through luck and willpower, she had escaped that godforsaken maze and entered the open countrysides of Normandy. But they weren't out of the woods yet. 

_"Come on, come on, come on... Please, God, please..."_ Violet begged to nobody under her breath, tears swelling in her eyes at the thought of losing Rylan. This was the first prayer she ever uttered in her life.

The panic, the exhaustion, the darkness, it all swirled together into one hellish fever dream that would haunt Violet for years to come. She grew more and more hopeless, soaked to head and toe with tears and sweat and blood. Then, off over the horizon was a camp of green military tents emblazoned with red medical crosses. The field hospital! Violet's labored breath further quickened in excitement. Her legs ran as fast as they could carry her and Rylan, whom by now wore deathly chalk-white skin from the blood-loss. By the time she reached the dressing station, her back gave out, unable to carry the man anymore. All the energy she had to muster was gone, right at the foot of her destination. The makeshift infirmary was a field of mortally injured men and women, splayed out across an array of stretchers on the floor, protected from the elements only by a flimsy canvas nailed to the ground. With the last fleeting remnants of her strength, Violet dragged Rylan onto an unoccupied stretcher, tearing open his jacket to reveal his bare chest and wound. It didn't look good. His guts weren't spilling out at the very least, but there was still a nasty, gaping hole in his abdomen oozing blood. 

_"MEDIC!"_ she demanded, throwing her voice as far as possible.

Violet held Rylan's hand desperately, clinging onto him the same way he himself barely clung onto life. Their hands were drenched in blood as their fingers interlaced, but they were drenched in blood together. After finishing bandaging up another one of his patients, the field hospital's bloodstained doctor rushed over to Rylan, kneeling down to assess the damage. After rolling his sleeves up, he pulled a haversack off his back and fished around it for the proper medical supplies. Brandishing a morphine syrette from his first aid kit, the medic popped the cap off and injected it into Rylan's neck, flushing his bloodstream with painkillers that alleviated his agony. Without the searing pain to keep the boy awake, he slipped into unconsciousness, unsure to ever wake again. 

_"Come on, Rylan, don't you die on me!"_ Violet begged with tears in her eyes.

Next, the medic pulled out of a cotton-ball and a bottle of disinfectant, soaking the former with the latter. He used the alcohol-soaked cotton to clean Rylan's wound, staving off any possible bacterial infections he would've gotten. As a final step to his immediate medical treatment, the medic brandished a length of thread and a fine pricked needle. With rigid wrists, the medic surgically sutured Rylan's wound, lacing stitches through his mangled flesh to sew the hole up. The bleeding was finally stopped.

 _"Is he gonna make it, doc?"_ Violet asked, pulling herself together by wiping her moist sockets dry.

 _"It could go either way,"_ the matter-of-factly and businesslike medic explained, pulling his haversack back onto his shoulder so he could move onto another patient. _"I stabilized him as best I could. I figure he's lost at least four pints of blood. Enough blood-loss to kill a man. If he's still alive in the morning, he'll pull through."_


	6. Boot Camp

As Rylan lied half-dead on that hospital floor, his life flashed before his eyes in one long fever dream that streaked across his mind. Blowing out four candles on his birthday cake. His first day at school, where he had a breakdown and cried for his mother. Graduating with the Class of '42. Enlisting in the Army at his local recruitment center, and then... 

It was May 26th. Private Rylan Driscoll was on his tenth and final week of training at the boot camp program of Fort Benning, on the Alabama-Georgia border. In nothing but his undershirt, dogtags, and cargos, Rylan sat alone on the bedside in the barracks, cleaning the wood and iron of his M1 Garand with a wet rag. The distinct bootsteps of his instructor crept up in his ear. He tucked away his rifle and stood at attention in front of his bunk-bed right as Drill Sergeant Myers marched angrily into the open bay. She had no harness, and she had a campaign hat instead of an M1 helmet. 

_"Private Driscoll!"_ she barked curlishly.

_"Ma'am, yes, ma'am!"_

_"What are you doing here alone in the barracks?!"_

_"Ma'am, cleaning my rifle, ma'am!"_

_"It's lunch time, Private! Why aren't you in the mess hall with the rest of the worthless saps?!"_

_"Ma'am, because I wasn't hungry, ma'am!"_

_"You care more about the maintenance of your rifle than the maintenance of your own body?! Keep yourself well-fed and strong, Private! You and your rifle are equally powerful weapons! Without you, your rifle is useless! Without your rifle, you are useless! Now drop and give me twenty, maggot!"_

_"Ma'am, yes, ma'am!"_

Rylan got down on his knees, then planted his palms and toes on the floor. He lowered so far down his chin touched the ground, then pushed himself up until both his arms were erect. One push-up, two push-ups, three push-ups. Before boot camp, Rylan was a scrawny weakling that could barely even lift his own body weight. By his final week, his biceps felt like solid rock, so twenty push-ups were nothing to him. That was until Violet unexpectedly took a seat on his back halfway through. 120 pounds of woman weighed down on his spine, doubling his burden. He yelped in strain and gave out underneath her weight.

_"Did I tell you to stop, Private Driscoll?!"_

_"M-...Ma'am, no, ma'am!"_ Rylan stuttered, voice quivering just as much as his arms as he slowly and weakly continued the workout. 

Combined, he and Violet were almost 250 pounds. Despite this mountainous burden on his shoulders, Rylan managed to finish his final ten push-ups through sheer willpower, in an effort to impress his drill sergeant. The moment he finished, he went limp, his armpits burning like never before.

Violet smiled sincerely, both amused and impressed as she sat upon Rylan's fatigued body. _"I am impressed, Private Driscoll. It's strength and tenacity like that that's gonna win us this war."_

She showed mercy on her recruit and hopped off of him, marching away to go discipline some more cadets. Rylan was victorious, but he sure didn't feel like it, groaning in crippling soreness on the floor. 

It was May 28th. After marching her troops in the warm sun, Sergeant Myers took the trainees to the firing range to sharpen their aim. All ten of them laid prone on their bellies, at the rickety wooden control booths of the outdoor shooting range. They each stared down the iron sights of their service rifles at a 500 yard field riddled with metal bullseye targets. Rylan conquered the 50 yard targets a month ago, and the 100 yard targets last week. However, his accuracy grew stagnant at the 150 yard targets. 

It was one of his final hurdles in becoming a soldier. Rylan's shooting eye watched three targets lurking down the range, all of them 150 yards away from his M1 Garand's barrel. He held his breath, tightening his chest and stilling his body. His wrists were almost as still as a corpse's, and his finger on the trigger was like a predator waiting for the best moment to pounce. He fired once. He fired again. He fired thrice. Sparks flew and the targets pinged as all three bullets made a bullseye and thwacked against the metal. Violet watched the process with intrigue. 

_"Damn good shooting, Private Driscoll."_

_"Thank you, ma'am."_

Myers really liked Driscoll. There was always something about him... She remembered one of the many obstacle courses she put this batch of recruits through. After enough training, Rylan had the strength, speed, and stamina to outrun all of them and win the 'race'. But he never did, because he always stopped to pick his brothers-and-sisters-in-arms up if they slipped and fell. He was a hard warrior but he also had a soft-spot for teamwork. Leave no man or woman behind. He never complained, never cried, never broke, never gave up. Myers knew a good soldier, and a good man, when she saw one. 

Later that night, the Fort was very quiet. Most lights were off and most its residents were asleep. Only a few soldiers stirred in the dark and silent base, and one of them was Sergeant Myers. She walked down the shadowy, empty halls of Benning and into the locker room. She undressed down to nothing but a tanktop and panties, both white, and neatly tucked her uniform away in her locker. She made her way barefoot to the woman's bathhouse, but she paused when she heard the faint sounds of running water nearby. So she wasn't the only one at Fort Benning that enjoyed late-night baths, it seemed... The thing was, it was coming from the men's bathhouse. Still, the less professional side of Violet couldn't help but peek into the shower room for just a second. 

She went for a quick glimpse, but her gaze was captured immediately. It was none other than Private Driscoll, stripped completely nude as he enjoyed himself underneath the running shower head. His body was a perfect mixture of masculine muscle and feminine shapeliness. Hips wider than Violet's herself, thighs thick enough to crush a man's head, yet big muscular arms and a faint six-pack. And he looked even better as he glistened immaculately in the warm, soapy bathwater. A flaccid, uncut cock hung halfway down his thick thighs from his hairless groin. Eight inches in length, similar in girth, and it wasn't even hard yet! Violet's eyes went wide the second she saw it, mouth shrinking and cheeks blushing. Contrasted against it was a plump and oily butt as bubbly as his personality. A manly cock in the front and a girly ass in the back. 

Rylan's sixth sense felt Violet staring daggers into him, and he turned around. A pleasant surprise surged through him. _"Oh, hey, Sergeant Myers!"_ he exclaimed, voice echoing across the tiles as he playfully saluted her. 

If this were ten weeks ago, Rylan would've been red as a beet and shamefully hiding his extremities. But showering every day in the company of his fellow man taught him body positivity, so he was proud that he could finally boast his gorgeous, well-built body to his coach. Myers, on the other hand, was flustered beyond belief, which was an alien feeling to her. She tried her best at hiding it, but was still dumbstruck to the point of silence.

Breaking the uncomfortable quiet, Rylan offered, _"Want to hop in? The water's perfect!"_

_"...Y-... G-Good thinking, Private. Our water supply is running low; it's best to share,"_ she rationalized.

She pulled off her tanktop and let her panties drop to her ankles, stepping out of them and stripping completely nude. Violet's athletic and sun-kissed body was tastefully accented by tan-lines and chiseled muscles, especially in the abdominal region. Rylan always knew, from the day he met Violet, that a gorgeous woman was lurking underneath all that army gear, but to finally ''see'' that woman, totally natural and nude, was astonishing nonetheless. He was so tempted to stare, but out of respect -- both from military professionalism and personal chivalry, Rylan refrained. Violet entered the shower, letting a fog of hot steam and a downpour of warm water consume her. 

She grabbed a bottle of shampoo from the soap dish and squirted a handful of it into her palm, combing her fingers through her hair and cleansing the scalp. Foam sopped onto her shoulders and dragged down her body, washing a day's worth of dirt, blood, and sweat down the drain. The two showered in comfortable silence, absorbing the atmosphere and one another's presences. They treasured every second, knowing it'd be months before they could enjoy another hot shower again. The shower heads were eventually screwed off, and the thoroughly cleansed soldiers fetched fresh towels from the nearest rack. As Rylan dried his glistening body off, a sudden sharp pain whipped across his right buttcheek like the lick of a tongue. He yelped girlishly and looked back; Violet had playfully snapped him with her coiled-up towel. A common locker room prank.

_"Watch your six, Driscoll,"_ she teased with a frisky smirk as she wrapped her towel around her trunk to hide her breasts, crotch, and ass. 

_"With you behind me, I wouldn't be able to keep my eyes off my six, Sergeant,"_ Rylan flirted back with a smile as he swathed himself at the waist with his towel. 

The two went on to pillage their respective lockers and change into their sleepwear of white undershirts and green cargo pants. 

_"See you tomorrow morning, Private,"_ Violet saluted goodbye as she closed her locker and departed.

_"You too, ma'am!"_ Rylan exclaimed back, left alone in the locker room to ponder.

Later that night, the private still laid awake on the bottom bunk of his bed, in an array of dozens. The barracks were dead silent, as most soldiers were sound asleep, and given a blue hue from the indigo moonlight leaking in through the windows. He stared out into deep space, mind infested with thoughts of his drill sergeant. He always respected her as his commanding officer, but after seeing her undressed and vulnerable in the shower room, he began respecting her as a woman as well. He certainly didn't mind this new perspective -- in fact he found it beautiful and enlightening, but it was one hell of a distraction. He hadn't had such butterflies in his stomach since high school. Was Rylan developing a crush on Drill Sergeant Myers? He wondered if she was laying awake at night too, thinking of him in her private quarters... 

It was May 31st. Rylan had enlisted in the Army exactly ten weeks ago. Now it was his graduation day. Almost two and a half months of push-ups, pull-ups, sit-ups, target practice, and running obstacle courses had turned Rylan into a hardened soldier, ripe for war. There was only one final task left before he could definitively call himself a warrior. To read the Soldier's Creed and vow himself to the US Army once and for all. Rylan's unit stood at attention in Fort Benning's gymnasium, in perfect arrays and columns, reciting the Creed from memory with flawless synchronization. 

_"I am an American Soldier._

_I am a member of the United States Army – a protector of the greatest nation on earth. Because I am proud of the uniform I wear, I will always act in ways creditable to the military service and the nation it is sworn to guard. I will do all I can to make it the finest unit in the Army. I will be loyal to those under whom I serve. I am proud of my country and its flag. I will try to make the people of this nation proud of the service I represent._

_I am an American Soldier."_

And with those final four words, Rylan and everyone in his platoon was officially christened as a member of United States Army. Not only that, but he was automatically promoted from Private to Private First Class with his graduation. Upon finishing the Creed, the graduates all erupted into celebration. Cheering, shaking hands, high-fiving, chattering, hugging. Except for Rylan. The first thing he did was approach the roster of commanding officers that watched their soldiers graduate with pride. He stood at attention before Sergeant Myers and respectfully saluted her. 

_"I just wanted to thank you so much for turning me into a soldier, Sergeant Myers!"_

_"My pleasure, Private. I'm proud of you, really. Watching you grow over the months has honestly taught me a lot..."_

_"It's a shame this is where we part ways,"_ Rylan huffed solemnly, looking down in disappointment.

_"Actually..."_ Violet raised an eyebrow as a smirk crept onto her face. _"I'm stepping down as drill sergeant. I love training recruits but, my country needs me back on the frontlines. Now more than ever."_

_"Whoa!"_ Rylan perked up, eyes filling with excitement. _"So you're shipping into Normandy next week?!"_

_"That's right."_

_"Maybe we'll get put on the same ship!"_

_"Maybe, Private. Maybe."_


	7. Operation Cobra

_"Dear Diary,_

_I got my stitches removed today! I've been staying in a field hospital for two and a half weeks, and I think my injury is finally healed! It's still a little sore, but I can take it; I'm a big boy! I can't wait to get back into the fray. To be honest, I've missed killing Nazis. Let's just hope my wound doesn't reopen..."_

The hand Rylan wrote with was wrapped with gauze, a reminder of getting stabbed through the palm by a bayonet. Another grim memento for his near-death experience was a few pages of his journal being permanently stained in blood, since he always tucked the book near his abs. As he authored his diary entry sitting atop his stretcher, Violet was down on her knees hugging his arm like the loyal girlfriend she ultimately was. She was so happy to see him up and at 'em, after two weeks of terrifying silence from him. After that scare, she treasured every second they spent together. 

His healthy skintone had finally returned as well, fully rejuvenated after almost three weeks of recovery. Rylan opened his coat to slip his journal into, for a moment exposing his bare chest. Thick rolls of bandages swathed his abdomen. As he buttoned his jacket back up, he was approached by Lieutenant R.J. Bradley, the tank commander of Black Beth. "Black Beth" was the callsign for a certain M4 Sherman, and the "flagship" so to speak of a whole tank platoon that belonged to the 2nd Armored Division. Black Beth and her crew were taking a pitstop at the Cavigny field hospital that day. 

_"Well, look who's decided to finally join us,"_ Commander Bradley said boisterously as he stood over Rylan. _"On your feet, Corporal!"_

Rylan did as ordered and saluted. Violet did too, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with him. _"I'm actually a private, sir,"_ he corrected respectfully.

_"Not anymore, soldier. I heard about that shitshow in the hedgerows. For managing to survive the SS onslaught, I'm promoting you both. You are now Lance Corporal Driscoll and Staff Sergeant Myers."_

The promotion hit the two soldiers like a train of emotions. They were almost knocked off their feet, and wanted to squee in overjoyed excitement. But Rylan and Violet managed to keep their cool in the presence of their commanding officer. 

_"It's an honor, sir!"_ they barked in unison.

_"You sure picked the right time to recover, Corporal. We're just now starting Operation Cobra."_

_"Operation Cobra, sir?"_

_"The final push out of Normandy. There's one last town to capture before this battle is finally over. Marigny. You two ready, soldiers?"_

_"Ready as ever, Lieutenant,"_ Myers answered.

_"That's the Violent Violet I know."_

Bradley climbed into Black Beth as it sat parked outside the field hospital, descending inside of it through the commander's hatch. It was a medium tank, a monster of impenetrable metal that made the terrain rumble underneath its fearsome treads. Its body was painted the distinct green of the US Army, with big white American stars emblazoned across the driver's hatch, the hull, and the commander's cupola. Rylan and Violet stood in the shade of the towering machine, humbled by its hulking might. Myers stepped up onto the tank's treads, then climbed onto its hull and took a seat. She outreached her arm so Driscoll could grab it and pull himself up onto the tank's roof too. They looked to their left and saw three more Shermans parked behind them, in a single file line.

 _"TO MARIGNY!"_ shouted Bradley.

All four tanks roared to life with their mighty engines, their drivers stomping down on the pedal and kicking their Shermans into high gear. The tank convoy plowed through the backstreets of Normandy at thirty miles per hour. The bocages of northern France slowly streaked past Rylan and Violet as they hitched a ride upon the armored caravan. Sergeant Myers cradled an M1918 Browning Automatic Rifle. A hulking beast of a machine gun. The weapon was almost as big as her, measuring in at a length of 4 feet and a weight of 25 pounds. Her father used a weapon just like it in the Great War. After a short drive through the crossroads of northern France, the tanks began to approach their objective. In the distance, the skyline of Marigny could be seen. It was a small commune of concrete townhouses sat atop a bed of streets and roads. Standing high and mighty above it all was a church, its bell tower seeming to pierce the skies. 

_"See that church?"_ Violet asked Rylan over the tank's engines, pointing it out. _"Our objective is to capture that!"_

The closer they got, the more Marigny's Axis defenses could be made out. The town was reinforced by a German artillery battery and a troop garrison, operated by a platoon of the 2nd SS Panzer Division that were ready for the siege. Black Bess came to a screeching halt, as did the tanks behind her. They all steered together into a battle formation, surrounding the village with armor. The muffled chatter of the tank crew could be heard through its steel walls. 

_"Enemy artillery, twelve o'clock!"_ called out Bradley.

 _"Spotted,"_ confirmed the gunner.

_"FIRE!"_

All American soldiers cupped their ears as Black Beth's main cannon launched a shell at Marigny, blasting the battery into the skies. The US ground troops hopped off the tank convoy and charged the town, guns blazing. The SS defenders tried to hold fast at the barricades encircling Marigny, but were quickly overwhelmed by the barrage of gunfire from M1 Garands and Thompson Guns. The Americans stumbled in their charge as the shells of mortars hit the earth next to them like comets, grazing them and almost blasting them off their feet. They endured, however, their siege unimpeded even with the rain of artillery fire. Rylan mantled over a barricade of sand bags and barbed wire, officially breaching the town's defenses. He clutched his bandaged-wrapped belly, still sore, but pushed the pain out of his mind and continued on. 

_"Get to the town square!"_ Sergeant Myers barked over deafening gunfire. 

The soles of his boots scraped across the village's paved roads, opening fire on the multi-story townhouses as German snipers peeked out of the windows, only to be met with bullets to the brains. Rubble littered the grounds, stacks of blackened smoke wisped through the skies, and strongholds were laid to waste as the Army unit broke into the village. Gunning down four Nazis along the way, Rylan and Violet navigated through the alleyways to reach the town square. There it was. The Marigny Cathedral, its holy frame crumbling underneath the war that raged around it. The ground shook as tanks approached and butchered the town with shellings. Debris rained from the sky, windows shattered, and the rebar skeletons of buildings were exposed. 

_"Capture the church!"_ Myers ordered. 

She sprinted up the church's steps and kicked in its double red entrance doors, barging into its vestibule. A squad of black-clad Germans were crouched behind rows of wooden benches, the organ, and the altar of the church's demolished sanctuary, firing MP40 shots at the Americans that spilled in. Rylan dived into cover behind a pillar that just barely held the crumbling house of God up, providing covering fire for his sergeant. Letting the BAR hang at her hip, Violent Violet unleashed a hellish barrage of machine gunfire upon her unfortunate enemies, tearing right through their cover. With every shot, the LMG thumped powerfully, its extractor ejected spent bullet casings, and the bolt handle thrashed back and forth. And there were twenty total shots until the BAR finally ran dry, its barrel hot and smoking. Four dead enemies laid before her, punctured by countless bloody bullet holes. Just when it seemed the church was clear, Violet heard a bullet whizz past her from behind. She twisted behind and noticed another wave of Germans trying to siege the church from outside. She rushed to cover against the doorframe as bullets poured in from the ajar entrance. 

_"Rylan! Go up to the bell tower and provide sniper fire!"_

_"Yes, ma'am!"_

Rylan rushed to the backroom of the church; the shaft of the belfry. He could see the bell hanging over him from thirty feet above, and slung his Garand over his shoulder so his hands were free to mount. His palms and boots scaled the rickety wooden rungs of the ladder; a three-story climb. He reached the very peak of the church, settling into a vantage point upon the outside balcony. This gave him a bird's eye view of the town square as little black Germans infested it like termites. Rylan took a deep breath and aimed his Garand, his shooting eye dilating as he steadied his wrists. With the precision of a surgeon, Rylan rained hellfire onto the German forces below. He pushed the Garand to its limits, sniping enemies up to five hundred yards away. All eight bullets landed in the heads or chests of Nazis. On the bottom floor, Violet laid waste to the streets of Marigny with the might of her reloaded BAR, once again taking out an entire squad on her own from behind cover. 

The two defended the chapel just as fiercely as they captured it. Out the corner of his eye, Rylan noticed a German soldier peeking out of an alleyway, kneeling with a rocket launcher mounted on his shoulder. Before Driscoll could cut him down, a small warhead blasted out the mighty Panzerschreck. At 360 feet a second, the anti-tank rocket rode a trail of smoke up to Rylan's vantage point. It pounded the side of the bell tower in a great explosion, shattering windows and making the whole structure rumble threateningly. Rylan was almost knocked off his feet from the tremor, holding himself up on the wooden railing. The church bell swung back and forth from the seismic shift, its clapper ringing and tolling wildly. Rylan could feel the balcony beneath him creaking and wheezing. The tower was about to collapse. He quickly ran back into the church and descended the ladder as quickly as possible. Instead of climbing, he slid down it like a fireman's pole, meeting back up with Violet in the main hall.

 _"GET DOWN!"_ he shouted, tackling his sergeant to the ground right as the bell finally fell.

The tower caved in on itself, decapitating the church and sending an entire ton of bronze crashing down onto the base of the building like a meteorite hitting the earth. Waves of air pressure and splinters and dust washed across the mangled remains of the church, and yet miraculously Rylan and Violet remained relatively unscathed by the cave-in, holding each other safe and close on the floor as they laid in the rubble. The town went quiet. No more gunfire, no more explosions; dead silence. All German forces were neutralized. Marigny was captured. 

Violet and Rylan panted quietly as they laid on top of each other, staring into one another's eyes and being stricken with a moment of clarity. Words couldn't describe how they felt. Only a kiss of untold intensity could express the hurricane of emotions erupting inside of them. Small moans and pants escaped their lips as they puckered together, followed by tongues meeting so they could play and dance and wrestle one another with incredible passion. Spit poured down both their chins, soaking into their lips and forming trails of saliva that linked their tongues. The French kiss in France was hot and sloppy and they loved every second of it. 

After sucking Rylan's face for what felt like an eternity, Violet pulled away so she could whisper two reassuring words to her lover. A final punctuation to their chaotic tour of Normandy. _"It's over."_


	8. Epilogue

It was August 30th, exactly five weeks since Marigny was liberated by Allied forces. Operation Overlord was complete, but Staff Sergeant Myers and Lance Corporal Driscoll weren't there to see its end. No, their tours of duty were long over. They had served their country, and now it was time for their country to return the favor. They were returned to the States; back home at Fort Benning. Where they met, where their adventure started. 

In the dim lighting of Violet's private quarters, they suited up together in front of a dresser mirror. The two retired soldiers were more than happy to leave behind their ragged, tattered fatigues and change into their fresh formal service uniforms. Men wore drab slacks and shiny black dress shoes, while women wore skirts and high heels to match, which exposed Violet's long and muscular legs. Topping off the entirely olive uniform were two cute garrison caps that sat atop their freshly cut hair. After sliding into white long-sleeved dress shirts, they put on another layer with a pair of blazers. 

_"I haven't worn a suit since prom!"_ Rylan chuckled while adjusting his undershirt's collar.

 _"You should wear them more often. You look handsome as hell,"_ Violet complimented as she neatly fastened up her coat, button by button.

 _"Well, you look beautiful as hell,"_ Rylan muttered as he struggled with his tie.

Violet blushed, but changed the subject with a lighthearted chuckle. _"Here, let me tie that before you ruin it."_

With meticulous fingers and careful folds, Violet hitched Rylan's tie and adjusted it neatly from within the V-shaped neckline of his coat. His uniform was finished. 

She looked up at him and said sincerely: _"You look perfect."_

_" **We** look perfect."_

Leaving Violet's quarters, the two soldiers elegantly walked down the halls of the base sharply dressed in their immaculate suits. They entered the fort's auditorium, its seated audience an Army platoon and Rylan's family. Corporal Driscoll and Sergeant Myers marched onto the stage in the spotlight of the award ceremony, then stood at attention with their arms respectfully tucked behind their backs. They stood tall and proud between two large American flags hanging from their poles, with their highest ranking commanding officer in the center. None other than Major General John "Iron Mike" O'Daniel, the commandant of Fort Benning. Rylan happily waved and quietly whispered _"Hey!"_ at his parents and little brother seated in the front row of the audience, his mother weeping tears of joy.

Eyes trained on a script and lips trained on a microphone, General O'Daniel stood at the podium and began the ceremony. _"Will the following soldiers please step forward: Staff Sergeant Violet Myers..."_

Violet approached the stage's edge. 

_"...And Lance Corporal Rylan Driscoll."_

Rylan followed suit. 

_"For outstanding gallantry and valor in action against an enemy of the United States while serving as general infantry for the First Platoon, Company F, Second Battalion, Sixteenth Regiment, First Infantry Division, in the Normandy region of France on the 7th of July, 1944, in support of Operation Overlord..."_

_"Sergeant Myers and her subordinate, Private First Class Driscoll, were hiking alone from village to village in Manche, where they got lost in the infamous hedgerows of Normandy. It is invariably attested by the soldiers who fought, from Privates to Lieutenants, that the Battle of the Hedgerows was the most brutal engagement the US Army has faced so far in its war against the Axis Powers, second only to Omaha. On top of that, Myers and Driscoll were ambushed by a squad of the Waffen-SS, universally feared in Europe as the most elite of Hitler's minions. This was the first time the Sixteenth Regiment had encountered the SS. Turned around in a hedge maze, already exhausted from a month of fighting, only the two of them against an elite and unknown enemy, far superior in numbers, and their surprise attack."_

_"Against all odds, however, these two emerged from those hedgerows alive. Myers and Driscoll killed all five enemy soldiers in a swift but brutal skirmish. Despite Driscoll suffering fatal injuries in the process, Myers managed to carry him almost a mile up the road to the nearest field hospital. Driscoll was back on his feet within only eighteen days of recovery, just in time to capture Marigny and secure Normandy from the Nazis. Since then, Operation Overlord has concluded, Paris has been liberated, and despite the hard-fought battle ahead of us, victory in Europe is all but assured. For Myers's unrelenting dedication to her fellow soldier, for Driscoll's unstoppable tenacity even in the face of death, and for their combined strength to uphold the proud traditions of the United States Army, both will be awarded with one of the most prestigious of all US military decoration - the Silver Star."_

Iron Mike pinned the Silver Stars onto the breasts of both soldiers. It was a golden five pointed star with a laurel wreath, pendant inscribed with _"FOR GALLANTRY IN ACTION"_. Its striped ribbon was colored an Old Glory Red, an Old Glory White, and an Old Glory Blue. 

_"Both will also be awarded the European Campaign Medal and the Good Conduct Medal."_

Four more medals were given. The Europe Medal was a bronze coin with an Irish Green ribbon representing the green fields of Normandy, its obverse reading _"EUROPEAN AFRICAN MIDDLE EASTERN CAMPAIGN"_. The Good Conduct Medal's inscription was a Bald Eagle surrounded by the words _"EFFICIENCY"_ , _"FIDELITY"_ , and _"HONOR"_ , with a red ribbon. 

_"And, for enduring a bayonet stab through the stomach that would've killed any other man, I award Rylan Driscoll a Purple Heart."_

Being fixated to Rylan's breast, alongside the Silver Star, the Europe Medal, and the Good Conduct Medal, the award was a heart shape with the profile of George Washington, both the medal and the ribbon purple. With the decoration complete, the auditorium erupted into thunderous applause. The two war heroes smiled until their cheeks ached, almost overwhelmed by the gratitude their country thanked them with for their service. 

Rylan leaned in and muttered something into Violet's ear over all the cheers. _"Almost feels like a wedding, doesn't it?"_

Violet giggled quietly. _"Yeah..."_ She looked down and gently placed a hand upon her slightly swollen belly. Underneath her service coat hid an eight week baby bump. 

_"Almost feels like a wedding..."_


End file.
